Academic standards at Burnage Media Arts College, Manchester, have soared
since pupils were forbidden to use mobile phones

Talk about the pre-digital age with the boys of Burnage Media Arts College, in south Manchester, and you might as well be delivering a treatise on the late Middle Ages. Britain before the mobile phone is, to them, another country – a quaint, half-timbered place in which nothing much of interest happened.

The world, for these youngsters, began not with basic mobiles – as antediluvian as conkers – but with the BlackBerry and the touchscreen. In their lives, face-to-face social contact often takes second place to an electronic haze of text, Facebook and Skype. Real life – playing football or simply hanging around with one’s friends – is routinely found wanting in comparison with the virtual.

So it came as something of a shock when, in September of last year, the school’s headmaster, Ian Fenn, banned the use of mobiles by pupils on his premises. They can be brought into school but must be switched off at the gate in the morning and not switched on again until leaving time. Many schools allow the use of phones during break times, but pupils at Burnage who are caught using one must surrender it immediately or face exclusion. Confiscated devices can be recovered only by a parent or other responsible adult.

Draconian stuff for a generation wedded to hyper-connectivity, but it seems to have worked in terms of lessening disruption in class, improving learning and reducing cyber bullying. What’s more, children are playing football at playtime again and rediscovering face-to-face contact. “We are not technophobes wanting to go back to quills,” says Mr Fenn, “but we do ask the question, 'If this or that technology is not advancing learning, why should we allow it to be used?’

“Mobile phones are a huge distraction. There are young people who have things on phones no sensible adult would want them to have. We are in danger of raising a generation of shallow thinkers who cannot concentrate for long enough to read a book.”

The college is a former boys’ grammar school (Lord Foster, the architect, is an alumnus) turned comprehensive. Five years ago, trading on its reputation in English and drama, it was rebranded and given new buildings. It is still an all-male institution, for 11 to 16-year-olds, but its character has changed. Muslim parents have been attracted by the school’s boys-only policy and there are now 38 languages represented among its 850 pupils. Among the student body there is also a fair degree of hardship – more than half of pupils have required free meals at one time or another.

In his 12 years at the school, Mr Fenn, who studied classics after public school in London, has fought back against ill-discipline and poor attendance, and established a more solid academic record. In 2001, just 15 per cent of pupils achieved five grade A to C GCSEs, including English and mathematics. Today, the figure is 57 per cent. Nine boys are now studying Latin.

“Many pupils here do not have structured lives,” he explains. “I have one boy who lives with his father in a bedsit on £60 a week. We are a destination for children who have arrived in Manchester as a result of war: Kurds, Afghans, Libyans and Syrians. Each year, 20 per cent of the boys leave and are replaced – we have a tremendous rate of churn. To make progress, you have to have good teachers and set clear boundaries. Achieving this would be very easy in a middle-class school where barrister fathers drop kids off in Range Rovers. This is not that kind of place.”

The ban on mobiles is one of those boundaries. (So, too, is the rule that boys must wear blazers.) In the week after they were outlawed, 20 phones were confiscated. The figure nowadays is usually zero, although two were taken from boys last week.

“Things have changed a lot,” says pupil Ahad Khan. “Before the rule, it was a bit hectic, kind of messed up – behaviour and discipline weren’t too good. The impact has been good. I support it 100 per cent.”

In previous years, some pupils would happily spend their time in the classroom photographing and videoing teachers, or texting friends.

“They weren’t focusing on the lesson and that brought the grades down,” says Ahmed Al-Ridai. “You would carry on doing it because you didn’t want to break the rhythm – like playing Copter.”

Copter?

“You have to avoid things in a helicopter.”

How did in-lesson texting conversations go?

“Something like, 'What you sayin’?’ Then your mate might say, 'Nowt’, and he would ask, 'What you sayin’?’ And you would go, 'Nowt’.”

What else?

“Pinging people out – making phones vibrate to distract each other – at other schools as well.”

Ahmed’s illicit phone use depended upon the teacher present, some being regarded as a softer touch than others. Now, the zero-tolerance policy is enforced rigorously.

“I would talk to friends at other schools to see what was going on,” says Ahmed. “It affected me. When you get distracted, you fall behind.”

Notwithstanding the change of heart, most pupils wouldn’t dream of owning a no-frills phone. Pupils replace their models every eight months or so, despite prices of £300 and more. Apple’s iPhone 5 or Samsung’s Galaxy S3 are current favourites. Most received their first mobile from their parents on starting secondary school, while some have been texting since the age of eight.

Has Mr Finn considered banning phones altogether at Burnage, given that children once managed perfectly well without them? “They are an extremely effective means of contacting home if someone is stranded or has missed the bus,” he concedes. “I have to balance a total ban with the issue of safeguarding. Being able to summon help is important.” One thing is clear: they are not an aide to learning in the classroom. Research published by Cranfield School of Management in 2009 suggests mobiles have a deleterious effect on concentration and spelling. Of 267 pupils questioned, 63 per cent felt addicted to the internet and 53 per cent to their phones.

Mumtaz Khan has three boys at the college and is in favour of the ban. “I’m thrilled because I personally don’t believe children need mobiles in school,” she says. “If I need to speak to my boys, I can ring the head of house.

“My children have never had mobiles. Their father is against children having mobiles and access to the internet. They can be good things, but do children use them in a good way?

“When Mr Fenn said there were to be no mobile phones I was very grateful because it has taken the pressure off us, and our son. Once he has good grades at A-level he can mess around on phones and computers.”